gilbert
by Perdue
Summary: Since defeating the game, Dave hasn't been very good with dogs. John/Dave OS


this is the last of the requested wordfics! the word this time is "dogs, specifically gilbert." (spoilers: my dog's name is gilbert and the person who requested happens to know that!)

**Warnings: **dave's usual foul language.

**Disclaimer: **pirate's headcanons all up in hear. we be hussin it up.

**Gilbert  
><strong>_- _

Dave had a playlist of Jade's most recent mix—mostly relatively short songs she'd thrown together in her spare time—blaring in his ears through a pair of pink, glittery headphones Bro had given him for Christmas a few years back. (Frankly Dave had just been relieved that they had no explicit prints of smuppets on them; even without the ironic bonus points, a gift that wasn't smuppet related was a gift to cherish.)

Because of the intense sound of basses dropping and terminally ill fires drowning out any external audio stimulus, after closing the door to his and John's small house behind him, he had no way of hearing the emphatic barking, useless warning to the large, slobbery dog that jumped on him when he turned around.

As the designated coolkid in their foursome (coolkid here loosely translating to doing things ironically and remaining perfectly stoic as his friends poked fun at his supposedly emotionless demeanor, or sometimes even playing along simply for entertainment purposes), he felt personally offended at the horrified sound that escaped his own mouth at the four-legged beast pawing at his stomach and barking into his face. His earphones fell down to his neck, inviting the incessant barking and John's laughing to reverberate in his eardrums. He pushed the dog off and backed away, glad for the shades if his eyes were betraying the utter consternation sending chills through his body.

"What the _actual fuck _is that doing in our house."

John bounded over and fell to his knees next to the slobbering monstrosity, rubbing its sides enthusiastically. "His name is Gilbert! Our neighbor really needed a sitter for the day, so I told her we could take care of him. Isn't he cute?" John looked up when Dave didn't respond, and his smile grew wider. "You should see your face, Dave. It is pretty funny!"

With a probably noticeable shudder, Dave steeled his poker face and, calling years of training to the forefront with surprising difficulty, forced his knees to stop quivering. "Yeah, I'll bet it's fuckin' hilarious," he shot back in his most unaffected voice. He didn't stay in the room long enough to see John's confused gaze.

Minutes later found John sitting on their bed next to him, taking a hand in his and stroking it with his thumb. "Dave?" he asked quietly. "What is it? Is everything okay?"

Dave didn't look at him, but barely opened his mouth to grind out, "I'll ask again, then. Why the fuck is that beast shedding its ugly-ass fur all over our carpet." He could sense the flinch John gave at his forceful tone and almost couldn't feel it in himself to regret not controlling himself. It was silent then for a long time, as it seemed John couldn't fathom what to say right away. He continued to stroke Dave's hand with his thumb, though, and although Dave wouldn't admit it, he was grateful for it.

"Don't you think… maybe it might be time to move on from that fear?" John finally murmured. Dave hated that his tone was all sympathy and concern and comfort without even the slightest shred of pity or condescension. It made an emotionless response that much more difficult to produce.

"What fear? I have no clue what you're talking about, Egbert. I'm just saying it looks like the thing has fur courser than Rosie O'Donnell's pubic hair, and I do not want that shit all over my clothes." He felt a small pang of worry (not visible, obviously, but it was still there) when John didn't even give him the usual disgusted expression at such an explicit metaphor. There were just pouting lips and creased eyebrows and imploring eyes.

"I'm being serious."

"So am I, bro. That shit's hard to clean out."

"Dave." The tingling feeling of skin contact distracted him as John's free hand touched his cheek, moving his head so that they were facing each other. "It's over, Dave. We destroyed the game. Jack is dead. He can't get us, not anymore." John leaned forward and kissed him softly for a few moments before adding in barely a whisper, "I'm not gonna let anything happen to you, so don't be scared."

John didn't let go of Dave's hand as he led him out of the bedroom and back into the living room, where Gilbert was waiting patiently, tail immediately beginning to wag once the two humans returned. Dave thought John might be losing circulation with how tightly he was clinging as the dog sauntered over and nudged Dave's leg with its snout. He didn't think he'd ever affirm what John had said to him, or mention how much he appreciated John continued to hold his hand, even if it was true. The nice thing about being with John was that he didn't have to say anything. Somehow John just knew.


End file.
